<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>you make loving fun by chunkieharold</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30082038">you make loving fun</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/chunkieharold/pseuds/chunkieharold'>chunkieharold</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Barista Louis, Beard's best friend, Famous Harry, Famous/Non Famous AU, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Maybe smut idk I have to ask my friends if they'll write for me, Singer Harry, Slow Burn, Very very fluffy, a bit of ot5 on crack bc why not, happy ending bc im not a bitch, like acquaintances to lovers but with pining i guess, lots of fleetwood mac and soft rock because yes, lots of sassy louis and soft but funny harry, niall is really cool ok, non famous louis, zayn and liam can't seem to get their shit together but they're adorable</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:20:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,164</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30082038</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/chunkieharold/pseuds/chunkieharold</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>the one where harry is a dramatic closeted singer with a tendency to talk to random animals he sees, louis is a sassy barista with no desire to interact with the world of hollywood, niall likes to call himself daddy and write songs about his nan, and ziam wont recognise their undying love for each other. taylor is the really cool beard with the hot best friend named louis and the really pretty girlfriend, and she's probably the only sane person in this book. </p><p>or</p><p>harry styles was not happy about getting a beard until he met taylor. or to be more clear, until he met taylor's best friend Louis. ( set in a cute coffee shop in brooklyn that is named after fleetwood mac because i would do anything for stevie nicks)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. the ledge</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>uh hi! im so glad you're here and you're checking this out:) dont worry, i write with capital letters. anyways, i hope you like it:) im sorry about any typos or anything bc im editing it myself, and i really hope you don't hate it x. have fun!!</p><p>the name for this fic is from the Fleetwood Mac song 'You Make Loving Fun', and all the chapters are named after other songs by them as well:)</p><p>https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0dt22BbwKgUszpL0qGyR1P?si=5Bw6D8QGRGeIvFJn8n-Yxw&amp;nd=1 </p><p>this is one of my writing playlists, so if you like reading to playlists that match the story tone, then this is it for you^</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry exhaled through his mouth, a little puff of air clouding in front of him. He was slightly winded as he pushed the door to the coffee shop open, the chimes at the top tinkling merrily. The cafe was small and cluttered with walls made of bookshelves, floor to ceiling with novels and magazines. Cosy armchairs were stuffed in the centre of the place with little candles on each table, the upholstery patterned with flowers on a cream background. A record player sat in a corner, strangely soft music playing from it, filling the cinnamon scented air. The coffee bar at the back was a soft teakwood and had a couple stools positioned in front of it. There was a pastry case next to it and a drink menu on the wall behind, with pictures of art pieces and vintage movie covers decorating the empty spaces. </p><p>The place was mostly empty, except for the small, blonde woman at the cash register and an old man reading the evening paper in the corner. Harry walked over to where she was standing, narrowly avoiding knocking over a table, and shot her a soft smile. He prayed she wouldn’t recognise him, but she didn’t even look at him, just noticed his presence and spoke out a very rehearsed “How can I help you?”  </p><p>He scanned the menu and picked out a cinnamon cappuccino and a blueberry muffin, to which she nodded and finally looked up from the computer screen, punching in his order. Her blue eyes widened when they saw him, and her lips formed a slight ‘O’ before she blinked, nodded, and spun around to make his drink. When she turned back and handed him his cup and plate, he noticed the scrawly cursive ‘Harry Styles’ that was written on his cup. So much for not being recognised. He handed her the money, insisting that she keep the two dollars worth of change, and thanked her before sitting down at a table sandwiched between a bookshelf and a window. </p><p>Harry liked it here. The barista had been polite enough not to point out who he was and probably hadn’t realised that she’d written his name without asking him for it. The ambience was impeccable, with it’s soft candlelight and delicious smells. The coffee was rich, sweet and creamy as he sipped it, the hot liquid burning his throat in the most reassuring way possible. He knew how to appreciate good food, that was for sure, because the muffin was probably the best he’d ever had. Crumbly on the top with bursts of tart berry in the moist cake. </p><p>He wished he knew what the song playing was called, because it was beautiful. Soft oddly poetic lyrics, it sounded like soft rock. He leaned back against the ridiculously comfortable chair and closed his eyes. The luck he’d had in finding this place. Hidden behind alleys and stores across New York City, it was tucked away in a tiny corner of the world, a corner Harry was sure no one else would find. Protected from the atrocities of the rest of society, it seemed to be trapped in it’s own little bubble of old music, yellow-paged novels and fresh roasted coffee. There was no way anyone he knew would find him here. </p><p>Harry pulled his laptop out of the leather satchel he’d brought with him and opened it up, keying in his password with one hand as he sipped his cappuccino with the other. He noticed the barista pouring coffee for the old man, her soft voice echoing out, harmonizing with the music as she chatted with him about what seemed to be his family. The man was talking to her with passion in a slightly shaky voice, using his hands as he excitedly described something. Harry smiled at this, because it wasn’t everyday that you got to see someone so genuinely happy. Especially when all the people he knew were hopelessly depressed, stuck in hidden spirals that never seemed to end. </p><p>He’d found the cafe purely by accident. Truth be told, he’d overreacted and taken off from a meeting with his management, running from the paparazzi and dodging phone calls from his distressed agent. They’d told him he was getting a beard. Some incredibly famous singer who would not only cover up his ‘gayness’ but bring him even more fame and publicity. Jeff had planned it all for him, with dates and anniversaries and convenient photoshoots. He was supposed to meet her at her penthouse in two days, and he had no desire to interact with another self obsessed diva who’d probably do enough flirting to get herself some money out of him and then go back to being a total bitch. </p><p>Naturally, he’d run away from the meeting in what he now realised was a fairly childish and immature move. He’d dropped a quick text to Niall and his sister Gemma, letting them both know what he was being forced into, and then he’d caught a cab to Brooklyn, where he knew no one would find him. Upon reaching his destination, he’d paid the driver and ducked into an alley with as much speed as he could conjure up. Lo and behold, he found himself in the fleetwood cafe, sitting in a corner, lost in thought. </p><p>With a final sip, Harry finished his coffee and gathered his things. In the hour and a half that he’d sat there, he’d managed to sketch out his feelings on the little book he carried with him everywhere, clear his emails, and sort through his feelings. There was something magical about the place for sure, he thought as he clumsily closed his bag and shot a half smile to the blonde barista, who just waved two fingers as a goodbye, and then he left. Back out into the cold air, he caught hold of a taxi and directed him back to the expensive flat he owned on the upper east side with plans to come back to the cafe the next day.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. walk a thin line</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>our wonderfully stupid love interests meet here, but nothing really happens. it's gonna be a really slow ride but i hope itll be good:)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>im writing this instead of doing all the homework i should be doing, and i can't seem to write this story without having a cup of coffee and some pastries next to me, because im trying to get in the zone. anyways, next chapter should be up soon x</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rehearsals were painful. Harry loved singing, he really did. He usually got lost in his own little world, hopping across the studio, dragging the microphone wire over the polished floors as he sang at the top of his lungs, but today he was totally off. Jeff was fuming at him through the glass as he vocalised, standing perfectly still. Mitch and Sarah were watching with worried looks as they accompanied his voice on their respective instruments. Once he finished the song, he placed the microphone back in it’s holder and gave a curt nod to his band, flashed Jeff a cold smile, and left. He’d never done it before, but after all the closeting and stunts he’d been forced into, Harry just didn’t have the energy to sit around and chat amiably with the people who were responsible for it all. </p><p>He slipped into the studio parking lot before anyone could find him and got behind the wheel. There was only one place he wanted to go, because in all honesty, he’d been thinking about the peaceful anonymity and comfortable atmosphere he’d experienced yesterday. He typed the address into his car GPS and pushed the pedal with his foot, swerving out of the garage. He drove in absolute silence, the soft hum of the British radio playing through the speakers of the vehicle. The BBC and FM shows were Harry’s guilty pleasure because they reminded him of home. Gemma used to listen to Capital religiously because she found Roman Kemp very fit, and it had become a source of comfort whilst he was in America. </p><p>The GPS announced that he was only five away from his destination in a ridiculous Irish accent that Niall had programmed into his phone when he wasn’t looking, and Harry gazed out through the windshield, taking in his surroundings. A light snow was beginning to fall as he pulled into a parking space near the cafe and got out of the car, locking it as he turned to the door. He plucked his phone out of the pocket of his puffer jacket and pushed the door open again, much like he’d done the day before. Today, there were more people inside, what with it being a Friday afternoon and all. Fuck, Harry thought. Should have realised there were gonna be people. Can’t expect things to be normal. He cursed mentally again and crept in. </p><p>It was stupid of him to have had that second of worry because people inside the cafe didn’t even look up at him. There were about nine customers, all consumed in their own lives. There was an old couple dancing in an empty corner near the record player, caught up in a bubble. It was strange, but adorable. A teenage girl sat cross legged in an armchair, flipping through the pages of Agnes Grey, and a small group of uni kids were sprawled out across the sofa area near the back with textbooks and cups of coffee. The vinyl was echoing out a tune that was different from the day before. Harry approached it carefully, wanting to pick up the cover and identify the song, because it was quite good. That’s when he heard a soft but sharp voice cut through the air behind him. </p><p>“Boston. By Augustana. Relatively new, I know, not really my style, but I guess you’d like it, since you seem new too.” </p><p>Harry spun around to find himself looking at the most beautiful man he’d ever seen. The man was lazily propped up against the pastry case, wearing an apron and a beanie, and he boasted startlingly gorgeous blue eyes and cheekbones that could cut glass. The man raised two fingers in a sort of salute-wave, and grinned.<br/>
He realised with a start that Mr. Blue Eyes had a very British accent. A very Yorkshire accent, actually, and his heart did a little skip. </p><p>“ Released in 2009, and it’s no Foreigner or Dash Crofts, but I think it fits our ambience.” Mr. Blue Eyes emphasised dramatically on the last word. Harry stared. He stood there, stupidly standing, not moving an inch or a limb. Finally, he spoke. </p><p>“Oops?” He squeaked the word out and Mr. Blue Eyes let out a soft laugh. “ Hi. I’m Louis, can I get you anything to drink?” For a second, Harry froze. How did this guy know he was gay? Did he recognise him? Was he hitting on him? </p><p>Louis watched him slowly before giving a slight nod and flashing him a thumbs up. “ Uh, take your time. I’ll be over there anyways.” He gestured to the cash register and Harry realised, with a start, that he was a barista. He watched him open the small side door to get behind the counter and prop his pretty face up on the palm of his right arm as he counted through the change in the register. The song playing changed, slipping into another soft rhythm, and Harry took a deep breath and walked up to the counter. </p><p>“I’ll get, uh, um, one,” He paused, trying to remember what he’d had the day before. “ One cappuccino, with cinnamon. Please?”<br/>
Louis smirked at him as he banged the order out into the computer. “ Anything else?”<br/>
Harry shook his head aggressively and then stopped because he could feel the blood rushing to it. He opened his wallet and handed a five dollar bill to the ridiculously attractive boy, who in turn, shot him a wink and spun around, still talking. </p><p>“So, curly. I’ve never seen you here before? What brings you and your extraordinarily British persona to my Brooklyn cafe?” Harry flushed at the usage of the nickname and stuttered out a small “ I was just in the neighbourhood.” Louis laughed and without turning back, asked him for his name. He widened his eyes at the boy’s back, his defences shooting up again. The other lad must have noticed his hesitation because he swivelled around and gave him a lopsided grin. “It’s for the cup curly, but you really don’t have to dox yourself if you don’t want to.” </p><p>Harry grew a richer shade of red as whispered out, “ My name’s Harold.” Louis quirked an eyebrow and he could hear the laugh hitching in his throat.<br/>
“ Ah, that explains your reluctance to reveal it I suppose,” the blue eyed boy finished the steamed milk design and handed the coffee to him after scrawling a big fat ‘Harold McCurlyface’ in chicken scratch handwriting. He nodded and took the cup, mumbling a “ Thank you Louis,” as he went to sit at the same table as the day before. </p><p>Settling down in the armchair, he watched Louis squirt whipped cream onto his wrist and hit it hard, causing the cream to fly into his mouth. Harry was still wary about everyone and everything, a natural reflex now. You couldn’t trust anyone, ever. That was the rule, that you don’t reveal anything or say anything more than you should, but the boy at the counter was very pretty. Honestly, Harry was a confident person. He was at home in his own skin, he knew he had a good stage presence, and he loved meeting new people, but something about the startling blue eyes made him melt into himself. </p><p> </p><p>He’d been sitting in the cafe for about an hour and a half when the strangest thing happened. The sun had begun to set and snow was falling at a steady pace outside the windows. No new customers had come in, and only two had left, people were still sipping coffee and chewing the flaky croissants. Louis was chatting with the old couple who had been dancing when Harry came in, laughing about something to do with crocheted sweaters. Everything was moving in slow motion, a calm and lazy kind of sequence. Louis went around, refilling people’s cups with fresh coffee and handing out muffins and slices of pie as he chatted with all the customers, whom he clearly knew well. Harry had been immersed in songwriting, and hadn’t exchanged many words with the undoubtedly cute barista, but he found the overall presence of gentle laughter and holiday scents in the air extremely comforting. </p><p>A Frank Sinatra album was turning in the player, singing out carols and hits alike, and there was a blanket of peace over the whole cafe. That was, until, the door came swinging open, and a blonde blur ran straight through the shop, hopped over the counter, and latched onto a very surprised Louis. It took about a minute for the blur to untangle itself from the barista, who looked slightly astonished. Harry noticed that none of the other customers even looked up, as if it was just a natural occurrence for someone to hurl themselves over the coffee bar. </p><p>The blur turned out to be a woman. A tall and very pretty woman with wavy blonde hair, a flower headband, cherry-red lips, and diamond blue eyes that were leaking tears. She looked oddly familiar, but also like something out of a time machine, with a knee length skirt and a soft lilac blouse. Once she had detached herself from Louis, she sat on top of the back counter, next to the espresso machine, and tearfully explained something to him. The boy, in turn, placed a hand on her knee, handed her a steaming mug, and whispered something that seemed to reassure her. The conversation continued on for about ten minutes before her eyes dried up and she jumped down from the counter, deposited her mug in the sink, and picked up a guitar that Harry hadn’t even noticed was there. </p><p>She sat down on a chair near the cash register and crossed her legs, giving a little wave. The old couple looked up at the woman sitting there with a guitar and smiled warmly at her. One of the college students flashed her a smile and said “ Hey, Taylor.” </p><p>Taylor. Her name was Taylor. Her name was Taylor, she had a guitar, and she was blonde. She was fucking Taylor Swift. Harry let out an inaudible gasp. She was his beard.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. second hand news</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>okay so we have a bit of conversation here, and it's still very slow. the next chapter should pick up some speed and make things a bit more interesting, but until then, hang in there babies.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>1.3k words, so not at all long, kinda just a filler introductory chapter so that we can get all the meetings over with and start with the story:)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Taylor seemed heartbroken. Harry had been determined to hate her, because she was closeting him up, but as she sat there, strumming on her guitar and tearfully singing, it seemed impossible to have hard feelings towards her. Her voice was incredible and her lyrics included innuendos and metaphors that would have poets shaking in their leather boots. She reminded him a bit of a fairy queen, with her pastel colour scheme and her acoustic guitar. Taylor fit in with the cafe, but Harry still had no idea why or what she was doing here. He had been so sure that no one he knew would ever come here, and it made absolutely no sense as to why she seemed so comfortable around Louis. </p><p>“I knew you. Dancing in your levis, drunk under a streetlight, I,” her voice broke and a tear slid down her cheek. Harry watched as Louis slipped out from behind the counter, dusted his hands on his apron, and threw his arms around her. She melted into his hug, her thin body shaking with sobs, and a mix of pity and confusion overtook Harry. Who was this guy, and what was he doing hugging Taylor Swift in a cafe called Fleetwood of all things. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and went back to writing. </p><p>Harry knew he was gonna get dinner here. He had absolutely no desire to drive back to his pretentious apartment and order sushi from the Nobu on broadway. He hated being alone in that stupid flat, especially since Niall was in LA for the next three days, and he was perfectly comfortable exactly where he was. He stood up and walked over to the pastry case, taking great care in selecting food that he would enjoy. He could feel Louis watching him from the register, blue eyes boring into the top of his head as he bent down to look at his options. Finally, he settled on a Yorkshire Pudding and two slices of Mushroom Quiche. Straightening up, he gave Louis his order, and the man nodded and began to type it into the machine, totalling up the bill. </p><p>That’s when a pretty, american accented, female voice rang out.<br/>
“Loulouu, can you proof-read this?” Taylor skipped behind the counter and smushed herself into Louis’ side, thrusting a piece of paper into his hands. Louis placed the paper next to the whipped cream bottle and grinned at her in affirmation. Unlike the girl he’d seen about half an hour ago, Harry noticed her smiling cheerfully, and he wondered what had happened. Louis printed out his receipt and handed it to Harry.</p><p> “That’ll be $15.25, Harold.” </p><p>As Harry smiled and paid the bill, Taylor’s head snapped up from where she’d been examining her piece of paper.<br/>
“ Oh my god,” she whispered. “You’re Harry Styles. Fuck.”<br/>
Louis pushed his change over the teakwood counter-top, a look of confusion washing over his pretty face. Then he glanced between Harry and Taylor, clearly having no idea what was going on. “Who’s Harry Styles?” </p><p>Taylor glared at Louis and leaned into him, whispering into his ear. His eyes widened slightly and the corners of his lips curled into a small smile. He opened the cash register again and pulled out fifteen dollars and a quarter, shoving it in front of Harry, and then turning around to take the pudding and quiche slices out of the case. Harry stared down at the money and then looked back up at Taylor, who just shrugged. The blue eyed boy was busy heating up the food, popping it into the microwave as he hummed to himself. Taylor pulled out a pair of wireless headphones and popped one into her ear before sticking her hand out, offering the other one to Harry. It was a sweet and unanticipated gesture that he accepted, and she tapped at her phone screen, causing music to play through the headphone speakers. </p><p>Taylor wasn’t saying anything and it was making Harry very uneasy. The two of them were sitting at his table, across from each other, listening to The Beatles through her headphones, and Taylor was resting her head against the window, watching the snow fall. Once she’d given him one of the headphones, she’d led him to his table, and they’d both sat down in total silence. It was strange, to say the least. </p><p>Louis approached the table, carrying the plate with Harry’s food, a yorkshire tea, and hot chocolate topped with marshmallows. He placed the hot chocolate in front of Taylor and the plate in front of Harry, and then dragged a chair over to the table and sat down. Taylor paused the music and took out her headphone, so Harry did the same and slid it over to her. She smiled and put them into her skirt pocket before beginning to talk. </p><p>“So, Harry. Harry Styles. Mr. Styles. Apple of my eye, fire of my loins, husband of my dreams. What in the everloving’ hell are you doing at a cheap cafe in brooklyn?” She sipped her drink and raised an eyebrow at him, and he smiled lopsidedly back. Louis let out a slight groan and poked Taylor’s cheek. “ Excuse me. My cafe is not cheap, it’s state of the art.” Taylor rolled her eyes at him. “Lou, you could be charging so much more for your services.” He stuck his nose up indignantly at her comment, but his eyes sparkled with a smile. Harry chewed his lower lip for a moment and then looked up at her fairy-like features.</p><p> “ I had no idea what this place was, if I’m being completely honest. I was in the neighborhood yesterday and needed a cup of coffee, so I came in here.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but it was nowhere near the whole truth. He wasn’t going to tell his beard that he arrived at the cafe in an absolute rage because of her. </p><p>Truth be told, Taylor was nothing like what he expected her to be. He’d only known been around her for about two hours, and had only properly met her half an hour ago, but she reminded him a bit of tinkerbell. He’d assumed that she’d be the pretentious owner of a superiority complex and that she’d have an unhealthy relationship with caffeine and substance abuse, but the woman sipping her hot chocolate in front of him was nothing like that. Her wavy blonde hair, delicate red lips, clear blue eyes, and 60’s themed denim skirt/blouse get up made her look like she was fresh out of a vintage children’s story. </p><p>An obnoxious sniffle from Louis tore Harry away from his thoughts. He glanced up at the blonde and the blue eyed boy and then cleared his throat, remembering his question.<br/>
“Um, I was wondering how you two, uh, how you two know each other?” He mumbled it out, voice dragging across each syllable in its usual, slow drawl. Louis grinned and tugged on a bit of Taylor’s hair, and she smacked his hand away before turning to Harry and smiling warmly. </p><p>“Oh my god, I can’t believe I didn’t introduce myself or Loulou here. I’m Taylor and this is Louis Tomlinson, my best friend. I’m pretty sure you already know, but I’m gonna be your beard now, so I guess it’s nice to meet you. Oh, and I’m sorry about, y’know, the tears and everything.”<br/>
The barista snickered and took a gulp of tea.<br/>
“ Yeah mate, I’m Louis, this wanker’s best mate. I own the cafe and everything, and I swear Tay doesn’t usually drag people off to corners and make them listen to her music, she’s just excited to meet you.”<br/>
He stuck his hand out towards Harry, who noticed how small it was. The boy had slender fingers and a tiny palm, and he closed it in his big one, shaking it up and down twice. Louis flashed him a wink and got up, collecting the empty plates and dropping a kiss on Taylor’s head. </p><p>“ I’m gonna close up early because Lottie’s bailing on me for some makeup workshop tomorrow, so I’ve got to cover for her. Harold, feel free to come back whenever you’d like.”<br/>
Harry smiled big and nodded, because Louis was still pretty and Harry was still gay.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i wanna credit lizz for taylor's use of everlovin hell, and i wanna thank molly for keeping me motivated to do this. i hope you're liking it so far!! i do wanna add that im so so so so so fucking proud of harry for his grammy, and that the leather jacket has to be the gayest thing i've seen in a long time. im a louie/ot5 and i could not be happier that lou is starting his own management company, i think niall absolutely rocked his st patty's day performance, zayn and ingrid have the most beautiful song ever, and liam payne gives the best content. anyways, i love me boys. xx</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. shake your moneymaker</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>so harry and taylor meet properly and the stunt begins. not much larry at all in this chapter but ill make up for it in the next one.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>here we go, the first pap experience.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Going to Taylor’s house was still a daunting prospect, but knowing that she wasn’t a total prick definitely helped. Harry turned sharply into the garage of a massive condo in Tribeca. While it wasn’t one of those flashy and ostentatious buildings, it definitely looked expensive. He parked his car and pocketed his keys, walking up to the elevator.</p><p>Soft classical music tinkled into the golden light of the lift as he punched in the button for the 13th floor. The doors opened straight into a very pretty apartment, one that definitely did not correlate with his expectations. Massive bay windows took up the end side of the flat, an open kitchen with an island littered with textbooks and stationery was tucked into a corner, and a very pretty sage green sitting area filled in the rest of the space. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, but other than that, the whole thing emitted an incredibly homey feel. It smelled of vanilla and roses, and the couches looked like you could sink into them and get lost. </p><p>The walls were a cream colour, trimmed with baby pink, and decorated with photographs, paintings, and pieces of paper. Harry recognised Louis in at least half of the photos, some with children, some at parties, some of him and Taylor cuddled up, quite a few with him flipping the bird to the camera, and a couple of him and two other guys who were quite fit as well. The other photographs were of people who he assumed were Taylor’s parents, brother, or other friends, based on the appearance and setting of the pictures. There were abstract paintings, song lyrics, and strangely enough, study schedules tacked up on the walls. To say that her apartment was materialistic would be a complete lie, because it was filled with comforting and down-to-earth decorations, plants and furniture. </p><p>Harry stood in the middle of the entrance hall, just in front of the elevator, and took in his surroundings. Then, Taylor walked into the living room and threw her arms around him. He froze for a moment before gingerly hugging back. When the girl finally drew back, he noticed that she was wearing a flowy, sky blue dress that cut off mid-calf, and had her hair braided down the side of her shoulder. She matched her house, all cool, earthy, free tones. </p><p>“Hey there,” She grinned at him and gestured to a sofa, where he sat down, “I’m so sorry for the mess, it’s exam week, so Lou’s been studying like crazy. Can I get you anything to eat, or drink?” Harry shook his head and she scoffed. “Honey, if I made you a tea, would you object to it? Because it’s cold as shit out there and you don’t look warm enough. I promise it’s no issue, and we have every kind of tea known to mankind.”</p><p>Harry did want a cup of tea. Taylor was right, the mid-november air was frosty and painfully chilly, and he hadn’t worn a very thick coat. “ Erm, have you got yorkshire? It’s alright if you don’t. I don’t want to be a bother or anything.” He blushed, not used to asking for things. He hated the idea of imposing and was always determined to be self sufficient. Taylor just squeezed his hand.<br/>
“We have more yorkshire tea than yorkshire does. I’ll make you a cup, it won’t take long.” She stood up and walked around the kitchen island, filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove, and then pulled open a drawer, extracting a tea bag from it. Harry followed her cautiously as she sat down at a chair on the island and motioned for him to do the same. Then, she got down to business. </p><p>“I don’t want this to make you uncomfortable at all. Beards aren’t easy, and the stunts suck, but since I’m gonna be your first one, I promise I’ll make this at least somewhat enjoyable. The schedule is simple, we start off by having a meet-cute. In our case, we’re meeting on a blind date tonight. Then, we flirt a bit on social media, have a few pap shoots, where I won’t let them make us do anything more than hold hands. In a couple of months, we make our ‘relationship’ public by a single instagram post from both of us. I’m pretty sure you don’t want to get your family involved at all, but we may have to, so be prepared for a ‘meeting the family’ moment. They usually want a new year's kiss, a vacation, and then a break up article release, but I will not do anything you don’t want to. I’m not gonna let them make you do things you’re not comfortable with.” Taylor exhaled as she finished her monologue and carried the kettle off the stove, pouring the water into mugs to brew the tea. </p><p>Somehow, knowing that she was going to respect his boundaries no matter what was very reassuring. Harry’s shoulders sagged as the tension released from them and Taylor smiled warmly at him, sliding his mug over to him from across the counter, in between the mess of books. “I really, really appreciate that, and obviously I don’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable either, so yeah. Thanks Taylor.” He felt the corners of his lips turn up and the dimple in his cheek pop and the girl just winked at him softly. </p><p>The elevator doors opened with a very prominent ‘ding’, and a heavily accented, loud voice carried out through the apartment.<br/>
“ Miss Swift, Oh Miss Swift. This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, may prove a beauteous flower when next we meet. I come bearing pretty girls who know not to fuck things up again.”<br/>
Harry spun around on his bar-stool chair, eyes widening at the sight of a Louis Tomlinson dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie with the words ‘RED HOT CHILI PEPPERS’ scrawled across the front. His hair was messy and he resembled a very cute hedgehog as he dramatically threw his arms into the air, reciting the elizabethan english quote. He racked his brain, trying to remember where he’d heard it as he realised it made no sense in the context used. “Shakespeare! That’s a line from Romeo and Juliet.” Louis flashed him a grin and a thumbs up, and that’s when Harry noticed the girl behind him. </p><p>She had white-blonde hair, a pretty face, and very black lipstick on. She rushed in between Harry and Taylor and wrapped her arms around the latter. He shifted away, giving them some space and Louis snickered. When the girls broke apart, Taylor had a tear streaking down her cheek, which the other one reached out to wipe away as she whispered something into her ear. Louis cleared his throat with a fond expression splayed across his face, and Taylor flushed a delicate shade of pink. The other girl stuck her hand out to Harry and smiled sheepishly.<br/>
“I’m Phoebe Bridgers, and you must be Harry Styles, our beard?” Harry stared at her.</p><p>“Oh, are you two together?” He raised an eyebrow towards Phoebe, who turned to Taylor. Taylor grinned and kissed her cheek. </p><p>“Yeah, all the drama aside, Phoebe and I are dating. We’re double bearding each other,” she explained. Harry nodded in understanding.<br/>
“That’s awesome. I’m sorry that the whole beard thing has to happen,” he apologized to the pair, the guilt weighing heavy. Fake dating Taylor would mean that they wouldn’t get to be seen in public and they’d have to be extra careful about it. The idea that he was responsible for that pained him, but Phoebe just leaned forward and tapped a finger against his forehead. </p><p>“Styles, don’t be an idiot. We’re just glad it’s you and not some rude asshole.”</p><p>Louis, who had been watching the moment play out, sauntered over to where the rest of them were sitting, tugged on Taylor’s braid, and hoisted himself onto a bar stool opposite Harry. He flipped open a textbook, leaned against the backrest, and started highlighting information. The girls watched him for a minute before moving to the couch, Louis pinching Phoebe as she passed him before inconspicuously going back to his work.  Taylor glared at the blue eyed boy, who gazed up innocently at her whilst Harry sat down next to her girlfriend. The three of them settled into a conversation about how the stunt was going to go, specifically the date tonight. Phoebe pressed into Taylor’s side as they told Harry about their previous experiences with beards, her nose squished against the other girl’s shoulder. It was quite cute. </p><p> </p><p>“Miss Swift, here please!” </p><p>“Harry, weren’t you spotted with Cara Delevigne last week?” </p><p>“Is this a date, Mr Styles? Are you and Taylor dating?” </p><p>The lights were blinding, and there was more paparazzi than usual, probably on account of both Taylor and Harry being there. People were screaming over each other, snapping photographs and yelling out questions. Harry took a deep breath, stepped forward, and wrapped his arm around her waist, looking at the blonde girl for consent. She nodded and leaned slightly into him, playing into the game. The maître d' ushered them into the restaurant before closing the door behind them, causing a wave of photographers to groan in irritation. </p><p>Jeff was sitting at a table set for four, and next to him was another man, whom Harry assumed was Taylor’s manager. The two men were dressed in identical black and white suits, and had glasses of wine in front of them. Jeff stood up and half hugged Harry, who scrunched his nose up and stiffly patted his back. The other man shook his hand and introduced himself as “Scooter Braun, Miss Swift’s manager.” He looked intimidating and not even close to attractive, and Harry found himself shifting closer to Taylor, who looked uncomfortable and Scooter smacked a kiss on her cheek. </p><p>The pair sat down opposite their managers and Jeff pushed forward a sheet of paper and a pen. “Here’s the contract. You have no option but to sign, I’m afraid,” his voice sickly sweet. Scooter smirked as they read it over. </p><p>Taylor Alison Swift<br/>
Age - 26<br/>
Instagram Followers - 151.3M<br/>
Estimated Popularity Growth - 37%<br/>
Profession - Singer, Model<br/>
Exposure Increase - 52%<br/>
Stunt Numbers - 17<br/>
Benefits - Mutual<br/>
Approximate Timing - 380 days</p><p> </p><p>Harry Edward Styles<br/>
Age - 27<br/>
Instagram Followers - 148.7M<br/>
Estimated Popularity Growth - 42%<br/>
Profession - Singer, Model<br/>
Exposure Increase - 60%<br/>
Stunt Numbers - Nil<br/>
Benefits - Mutual<br/>
Approximate Timing - 380 days</p><p>Clients are required to abide by all instructions provided by management.<br/>
Any extra relationships must be kept under wraps, there will be no romantic public interactions with any other persons.<br/>
Clients are obligated to stick to the contract for a time period of 14 months.<br/>
No romantic/sexual relationships should be withheld from Management.<br/>
Clients will be required to meet each other’s families and make public appearances.<br/>
Clients providing any indication towards being homosexual will result in the client being sued for approximantely $3,000,000. </p><p>Sign here:<br/>
Jeffrey Azoff<br/>
Scooter Braun<br/>
Taylor Swift<br/>
Harry Styles</p><p>Once Harry finished signing the contract, Jeff swiped it back and Scooter cleared his throat. </p><p>“ Harry, we’re going to get some food, Taylor’s going to post a picture of the restaurant for fans to identify, and in exactly an hour and a half, you are going to drive her home, go inside her apartment and stay the night. I’m sure she can arrange a room for you to sleep in. Tomorrow morning, you’ll be photographed exiting her house.” Harry nodded shakily, trying to wrap his head around it all. He wasn’t remotely enthusiastic about the stunt, but it helped to know that his beard was going through the same thing and was a genuinely good person. </p><p>Dinner passed through fairly quickly, with little conversation. The food was good, but Harry could barely taste it, his head clouded with thoughts about the whole situation. The next morning, people were going to think he had slept with Taylor. They’d probably call him some rude things, tell him that he was using her, and then forget about it until the next paparazzi event scheduled. </p><p>Jeff and Scooter left through the back and Harry held out his hand for Taylor, helping her up. Then, as the restaurant door opened, he pulled her into his side and she laid her head on his shoulder for a second whilst they maneuvered their way through crowds of flashing cameras. The stunt had officially begun.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>cute fluffiness next chapter for sure</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>